To Serve a Purpose
by DarkTwin7
Summary: The Marauders, 6th year: In the aftermath of the Werewolf Prank, Sirius takes a fall from grace, and learns the hard way that there are some things you can't set right just with words. SLASH (SB,RL). Rated R for language, violence and mature sexual themes


**Summary:** The Marauders, sixth year. In the aftermath of the Werewolf Prank, Sirius takes a fall from grace, and learns the hard way that there are some things you can't set right again just with words. SLASH (Sirius/Remus).

**Author's Note: **This story is dedicated to all who don't want believe that Sirius just fell on his knees at Remus's feet on the morning after the Werewolf Prank, and that that was all it took to set things right again. The story gets a well-deserved **R-rating for language, violence, and sexual themes of a mature nature, including something bordering on rape.** Don't read if any of this is likely offend you.

**Disclaimer:** J. K. Rowling owns all the characters. No copyright infringement is intended. I'm writing this for my own amusement and I don't make any money of it. And I sincerely hope JKR never ever comes across this, and if she does, I beg her forgiveness.

**Feedback** (review or mail to darktwin7hotmail.com) is much appreciated.

**French-speaking readers**: Make sure you check out the _excellent_ translation of this story into French, by Fénice. You can find it under the title "Les Sentiments d'un Jouet" here on FF.net (story id: 1911923)

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**To Serve a Purpose**

To say that Sirius was sorry would have been a complete understatement. He wasn't sorry, he was devastated. He was at his wits' end, he was lost for words, and being Sirius Black, that was as rare as it was disquieting. He didn't know what to do, or what to say, to ever set this right again. And they weren't helping. Dear God, no, they weren't helping.

It had been a terrible day, that Saturday, the day _after_. He'd already been through things with Albus Dumbledore the night before, and then went through them again with Minerva McGonagall on the morning. By noon, he had heard it all at least twice - that he'd been thoughtless, he'd been irresponsible, he'd had no reason whatsoever to do what he had done, there was no justification for his behaviour, and no excuse.

And he couldn't say that he didn't agree.

He also knew that the only reason why they weren't kicking him out of Hogwarts straight away was that it would have meant that Remus would have to leave as well, as they couldn't have explained Sirius's expulsion without giving away Remus's secret. They had left it to Remus to decide, and Remus had decided to keep his secret, and he had put Sirius forever in his debt that way. And then, and this was the worst of all, Remus had refused to even give Sirius the chance to make up for it.

_Thank you for that, Moony._

It hadn't been hard for Sirius to avoid his friends all day, as Remus had spent most of it in the hospital wing, recovering from the full moon, and James and Peter had taken great care to be gone from the dormitory by the time Sirius woke up, and had continued to make themselves scarce during the rest of the day, too.

On Saturday evening, Sirius had stayed in the library longer than even most seventh years, until Madam Pince had chased him out at a quarter past nine. He'd taken refuge in the common room then, hiding behind one of his school books, turning pages automatically and giving short unfriendly answers to anyone who attempted to talk to him. It was around midnight when he decided he'd risk sneaking back to the dormitory, hoping that the others would be asleep by now.

Remus would be back there now, too, and Sirius really had no idea what to say to him when they'd come face to face. He'd been mulling this over and over in his head all last night, and all day today, but his mind was blank. Anything he considered just sounded… wrong.

He was sorry. _Big deal_. You were sorry when you stepped on someone's foot, not when you used one of your best friends to almost kill a git whose mere existence annoyed you. Sorry was not enough.

He'd been thoughtless, he'd been irresponsible, he'd had no reason whatsoever to do what he'd done. _Learned your speech by heart, haven't you, Sirius? Pity it doesn't sound like you really mean it._ Teachers' talk. True, yes, but teachers' talk nonetheless.

There was no justification for his behaviour, and no excuse. _Why talk about it at all then? _

_Forgive me._

Foreign words to Sirius Black. Could he even say them without stumbling over them? What would he sound like, saying that? Was there even a remote chance that they would take him seriously when he said those words? And would they ever take him seriously again _after _he'd said them?

That was about as far as he'd got all day, and that was as far as he'd got again when he reached the door to the sixth years dormitory and opened it quietly. The moment he did, he knew it had been a mistake, and he cursed himself for not noticing the line of light in the crack under the door that would have told him that his timing wasn't as good as he'd thought.

His three fellow sixth years were still up, and by the look of it, waiting for him. Remus was sitting on his bed by the open window, his nose in a book that he was holding in bandaged hands, but he hadn't drawn the curtains around him yet. James was leaning against the dresser below the window, arms crossed, facing the door. Peter was on the edge of his own bed, already in his pyjamas, but otherwise wide awake. And it was way too late now for Sirius to just back out of the room again.

He registered, irrelevantly, that there was a faint smell of smoke in the air. It told him that Remus had had one of his Muggle cigarettes before going to bed - he was the only one in the whole of Hogwarts who was allowed them, as they calmed his nerves before and after full moons. On any other day, Sirius, like James and Peter, would have been welcome to share the smoke. Not today.

For a long time, nobody said a word.

_Sorry, Moony, I haven't quite made up my mind what to say to you yet, I hope you don't mind. Will only take a few more days, and then I'll have a nice speech ready for you. That OK?_

_Forgive me._

_Bugger it. Just walk over to your bed, grunt 'good night' and draw the curtains, for God's sake._

_Forgive me._

_What'ya__ all lookin' at? Got dirt on my nose or something?_

"We're waiting," James said sharply.

"What for?" Sirius asked back aggressively.

_Stop being stupid.__ You know all too well._

James jerked his head in Remus's direction. _"Remus_ is waiting," he elaborated.

_Just say it, idiot. Just say it and be done. _

"We _think,"_ James continued pointedly, "that you owe him something like an _apology_, if you know the meaning of that word."

"I - "

_Say it!_

He was taking too much time.

"I don't think he knows it," came Remus's tired voice from his bed. He had not looked up from his book.

"We could teach him," Peter suggested.

"I'm not going to apologise at _wandpoint_, if that's what you're getting at," Sirius rounded on him, finding his voice again. He was lashing out almost instinctively, as always when he felt cornered.

Peter gave a little start at the sharp tone, but he stood his ground. "If you're not going to do it otherwise - "

" - I'd rather not want to hear it at all," Remus said, his eyes still on the book.

James frowned at Remus, but then gave Peter a warning look. "It's up to you, Remus," he said.

"And if you want to give a _convincing_ impression of being absorbed in your book, you might want to consider turning a page now and then," Sirius snapped.

James pushed himself off the dresser, and for a moment he looked as if he was going to hurl himself at Sirius.

"Ignore him, James," Remus said calmly.

"Remus - " James began.

"Fine," Sirius interrupted them. "It's not like I've got anything to say. Oh, except thanks for saving my ass, Moony - my parents will be delighted to hear that I owe my chance to complete a full magical education to a werewolf."

There was a heavy silence. Then, his eyes still fixed on the book, Remus reached out with his bandaged hand and wrenched his bed curtain shut.

Sirius shrugged, turned his back on Remus's bed and looked around at James - straight down James's wand.

"Get _out," _James spat, hazel eyes flashing.

"Excuse me, I _live_ here."

"Just _get out._" Angry red sparks came flying out from the tip of James's wand.

Sirius gave a derisive snort, grabbed the quilt from his bed, and marched out of the dormitory to find himself a place to sleep down in the common room, dragging his blanket behind him.

He was cursing his own temper and his thick-headed friends with equal intensity. He had well and truly made a botch of his chance to explain himself, but they weren't helping, dear God no, they weren't. Had they even _listened? _No. Well, he hadn't really said anything worth listening to. But had they even let him _try?_

Fine. _He _wouldn't be in a hurry to get back up there and let James dictate what he said to whom and when, and have Remus close his curtains in his face again.

Sirius spread his blanket out on one of the squashy sofas in front of the common room fire, lay down to sleep, and out of pure spite did fall asleep within minutes.

--- ---

And that was how things remained over the course of the whole next week. Sirius and the other three Marauders ignored each other completely, never exchanging a single word or even a look. Sirius didn't set foot in their dormitory, except the few times when he sneaked back quickly during breaks to collect the schoolbooks he needed, or a fresh shirt or pair of socks. The nights he spent in the common room.

Being used to all kinds of eccentricities and odd behaviour from the mad sixth year boys, it would have taken more than that to shake the rest of Gryffindor house. Even if they'd been surprised at these new sleeping arrangements, no one let it show. If Sirius didn't mind waiting until after midnight for the last seventh years to pack up their books and parchments from N.E.W.T. revision and leave the common room to him, and if he didn't mind the early birds among the students waking him up again at first light when they noisily made their way down to breakfast, by all means let him sleep on that sagging old sofa instead of in his own bed. He would have his reasons - or he might not, but being Sirius Black, pointing that out to him would certainly not make him change his mind.

The fourth year girls, it transpired, had at first considered asking him if he didn't want to share _their_ dormitory if he wasn't welcome in his own, but none of them was brave enough to ask him in the end, given how Sirius tended to lash out at everyone who approached him these days, even at those with much less ambiguous questions.

If the obvious rift between him and his three usual friends was a general topic of conversation, as he guessed it must be, he didn't care. Both teachers and students couldn't fail to notice how during classes, he suddenly sat with the girls from his year (not that they minded), or even with Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs he hardly knew, rather than with James, Peter and Remus, and never even talked to them during breaks. It would also be noticed that they no longer sat together at meals. In fact, Sirius was skipping breakfast entirely most mornings now, which was unheard of from a person with as healthy an appetite as his. But nobody ever got an explanation from anyone who knew the true reason for all this. If the rest of the school were still racking their brains over it, it was their problem, not Sirius's.

And they got used to it. By Thursday of that week, the sofa Sirius had chosen for himself (the only one that allowed him to stretch out his long legs properly), had become "the bed" to most of the Gryffindors, and was referred to as such even in the context of its usual daytime purposes (which led to some very amusing double entendres, or so they thought), while Sirius buried himself under books in the library, barricading himself in with heavy volumes on advanced Transfiguration and still failing to forget for even one minute what really weighed on his mind, what really gnawed at him on the inside.

Even the house-elves who looked after the fires and cleaned the rooms accepted Sirius's nightly presence in the common room. He might have given them a little fright when they had first found him there, but not used to ever questioning the behaviour of any witch or wizard they were bound to serve, no matter how strange it might be, they said nothing at all. The next night, one of them had even brought down the pillow from Sirius's dormitory bed, handing it to him with a bow, whispering that he hoped the young master would be more comfortable now. Of course they must have noticed that he didn't sleep well at all. They always moved and worked in complete silence, so it was never them that woke him up, but he still spent more hours waking than sleeping during those nights. Even at night - especially at night - he could not take his mind off what had happened at the last full moon, what _he_ had done. And he still didn't know what to do or what to say, especially now that Remus had made it clear that he wouldn't listen even _if_ Sirius managed to come up with something.

By Saturday, he'd decided that he'd stop trying.

--- ---

And _they_, by Saturday, had decided that it was high time he tried again.

Sirius had been easily able to avoid the other three throughout the day again, as James had been busy with Quidditch practise and Peter and Remus had walked down to the pitch to watch, leaving the field to Sirius in the library for most of the day, and only driving him out of it when they turned up there in the afternoon for a bit of homework of their own. Sirius relocated to the common room then, which was thankfully empty, as it was a bright sunny day and most of the students had taken advantage of it to spend it out in the grounds.

For dinner in the Great Hall, Sirius chose a seat for himself as far away from their usual end of the table as possible. He settled down next to some stressed looking seventh years, and was soon engaged in a discussion with them about the Switching Spells they'd been studying this afternoon. He was half-way through the pudding and in the middle of a heated exchange with Alice, the current Head Girl, about a finer point in the switching of inanimate to animate objects, when the sudden silence of those sitting around him and a feeling of foreboding that made his hair rise at the back of his neck alerted him to the presence of his three friends. They had lined up behind him while he talked, and had obviously been waiting for a while for him to look up.

"Come for a walk?" James asked casually, and it was somehow immediately clear that they wouldn't accept "no" for an answer.

Well. He couldn't have avoided them forever. Sirius shrugged and got up from his place. They drew aside to make room for him, and he nodded to the seventh years he'd been talking with and made for the doors, not looking back to see if James, Peter and Remus followed. Still, the way he marched out of the Hall with his head held high and a guard of three at his back must have reminded those who watched - and that meant most of the school, as the meal hadn't officially finished yet - of a proud prisoner heading for the gallows.

And that pretty much summed up how Sirius felt. He wasn't sure what they were up to, but there was so much to still be set right between them that he had no idea where they were going to start, and even less of an idea where it was going to end. But they seemed to have a plan.

"Outside," said James curtly when they were in the Entrance Hall, and the doors had closed behind them. They walked out into the grounds. The sun was gone now, but it was not yet dark, and not cold either, even though they were in their weekend Muggle clothes rather than school robes. "To the lake," James instructed when Sirius hesitated at the foot of the stone steps.

"Going for a swim, are we?" Sirius quipped, but none of them even smiled.

"Shut up, Black," James said coldly.

Sirius shrugged, determined not the let his unease show, and set off down the path to the shore of the lake and their favourite tree there. But they apparently had a longer walk in mind.

"We're going right to the end," James ordered, and Sirius resisted the urge to ask whether he meant that geographically or figuratively. They passed the beech tree and continued along the bank, further and further away from the castle, towards the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

Sirius knew where they were heading now. They arrived there after several more minutes. It was a small patch of grass at the far end of the lake, where the bank sloped gently right down to the water, and the ground was a little lower than the surrounding area. It was impossible to see this place from any of the castle windows, and Hagrid's cabin was conveniently far away, too, certainly out of earshot. It was a good place to laze away Sunday afternoons, undisturbed by Slytherins looking for trouble. It was also their usual assembly point for excursions into the Forbidden Forest at full moons. It was even a good place for fishing, as Peter had once claimed, two summers ago, and stubbornly sat out a whole Saturday there with a makeshift fishing rod, returning in the evening, to everyone else's surprise, with a proud catch of two very small, uneatable but prettily glittering fish just to prove his point.

And it was, Sirius realised with a little jolt of his stomach, quiet and hidden away as it was, the perfect place if you had a score to settle with someone and didn't want anyone else to see or interfere.

He _should _have seen this coming. Last Saturday night, he had pronounced his own sentence - guilty on both charges, both of making a mistake and of failing to acknowledge it. The week that had followed had been his probation, his chance to make it up with them. He had had seven full days of twenty-four hours each in which he could have tried to say something to Remus, or at least let him know through the others that he wanted to set things right. A fair chance - and he, idiot that he was, had let it pass. And now he would suffer the consequences.

Sirius began to wonder whether he had better put his hand on his wand, just in case, when James spoke up again as if he'd read Sirius's mind.

"Right," he said, turning to him. "Give us your wand."

"What?"

"Give us your wand," James repeated evenly. "And I'm not going to ask you a third time."

"And what's next, 'lower your pants'?" Sirius snapped.

To his surprise, James turned to look questioningly at Remus. "Remus?" he asked, as if he seriously wanted him to consider that option.

"No," Remus replied equally gravely.

_What the hell was _that_ about? _

"Look, I'm not going to play games with you lot," Sirius said angrily. "Thanks for marching me out of the Great Hall and to execution like that, but you lot don't _own_ me, and I'm not here to provide entertainment for you. If you need a toy to play with, go capture a Slytherin, but don't give me any of that shit."

He had touched a nerve there. Peter went incredibly red, like he always did when he was angry, and made a hissing noise at him. Remus, on the other hand, blanched white, his lips forming a very thin, hard line. James, however, kept his composure. He drew out his own wand and pointed it almost lazily at Sirius.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sirius glanced at the edge of the lake and realised that if James hit him with anything now that would make him stumble even one step backwards, he'd end up in the water.

"What do you say, Remus?" James asked again.

"Leave him be," Remus replied. "I mean leave him the wand," he added when James frowned slightly.

"All right," said James, unconvinced. He shot Sirius a sideways look full of mistrust. "We'll be off then. But if he tries to transform and run, or gives you trouble of any other sort, give us a shout, we'll hear you. Come on, Peter."

And without another word, James and Peter turned and climbed back up the slope to the upper bank of the lake, and left Remus and Sirius alone on the little patch of grass below.

Remus folded his arms and looked out across the surface of the lake. The silence stretched between them.

"You do know what we're here for, don't you?" Remus said finally, still not looking at his friend.

"Fishing?" Sirius suggested sarcastically. "No, I don't. If you wanted to talk to me, you could have found me in the library, any time. No need to make a show of it like that, and drag James and Peter along to impress me."

"You don't get it at all, do you?"

"Get _what?"_

"We're not here to talk."

Sirius was taken aback for a moment, but he wasn't going to let it show. "Fine," he said. "Why don't we both just shut our mouths then and get back up to the castle?"

He had expected almost anything in response to this, except what happened.

Remus swung around and hit him squarely in the face.

He caught Sirius rather erratically on the left side of his nose, but with a force that flung Sirius's head to the side and made him topple over backwards. He broke his fall with his right hand, and his left flew up to his face in a belated protective gesture. He pressed the back of his hand to his nose for a moment, and it came away smeared with blood, flowing freely once the pressure was released. Sirius stared at his bloody hand, and then up at his friend, eyes wide in utter disbelief, for a moment unable to put the two together. Then, within a split second, his expression changed. He gave a dog-like snarl, baring his teeth at Remus, and started up towards him, reaching for his wand.

But before he got to his feet and had his wand out, Remus had thrown himself against him, his weight bringing them both down to the ground, Sirius flat on his back and Remus on his knees, leaning over him.

"Remus!" Sirius yelled, grabbing the collar of his friend's shirt. "What do you think you're _doing!__"_

But Remus didn't reply. It seemed he hadn't even heard. He struggled free, and brought his hands down on Sirius's shoulders, pinning him to the ground. With his full weight behind them, the strength in those arms was surprising. Sirius tensed under his grip and made an attempt to throw him off, but to no avail.

They remained still for a moment then, panting, blood running warmly down the side of Sirius's face and dripping into his hair, staring into each other's eyes, Sirius's dark and flashing furiously, Remus's amber, its wide pupils rimmed with rings of dark golden fire, burning in his face like two bright flames.

And then suddenly, without warning, it was as if the same fire sprang up inside Sirius, too. He felt a wave of heat well up inside that sent a burning sensation through him, right up to the roots of his hair. That face there, right above him, was, in its fury, both the most beautiful and the most terrifying face he'd ever seen. Those quivering lips, as if Remus couldn't make up his mind whether to kiss him or bite him. Those burning eyes, staring at him almost hungrily, ready to devour him. They scared him, Sirius suddenly realised. They were too close. He wrenched one of his hands free and grabbed a handful of Remus's hair, trying to push him away. "Let me go," he hissed.

"No," Remus hissed back and jerked his head aside, leaving a few strands of hair in his friend's hand. "I said we're not here to talk, but that doesn't mean we're going back yet."

"Are we not," Sirius snarled, the muscles in his arms tensing in another attempt to break free. Remus's hands slipped from his shoulders, and he came down heavily on top of Sirius, trapping him under his lean body, his knee between his Sirius's thighs, close, much too close. Their faces were inches away from each other now, and Sirius could feel the other's warm breath on his own lips. The amber eyes were burning even more brightly.

"If you - " he began, but was cut off when Remus's lips came down on his own. They were slightly dry, grazing against his, and yet the touch was electrifying. Sirius instinctively closed his eyes for a moment, wishing that it would never pass, before he realised what was happening, what he was _letting _happen. He'd let his friend _hit_ him, and now he was letting him _kiss_ him. He couldn't have said which he hated himself more for. He turned his head away, breaking the contact.

"If you do that again", he gasped, "I'm going to bite your bloody tongue off."

If anything, it was an invitation. Remus's hand went into Sirius's hair, claw-like, forcing his face back towards him, and Sirius was almost smothered under his friend's lips again. But he told himself firmly this time not to succumb to that shiver of strange pleasure the kiss gave him, and instead caught Remus's lower lip between his teeth and bit down as hard as he could. It worked. There was an instant sweet taste of blood in his mouth, and Remus gave a muffled little sob and let go. A small trickle of blood ran down his chin, but his eyes were still blazing.

"What are you up to, going to rape your best friend?" Sirius spat at him, willing his voice not to tremble with what he felt was an impossible combination of fear and anticipation.

"Yes, I think I am," Remus said in a chillingly calm voice. "You said I don't own you, but I want you badly enough to ravish you on the spot if you say that again."

"You don't own me."

"Don't ask for it."

"You wouldn't _dare."_

"Let's find out."

"I'll cry for help."

"Do, it will only bring James and Peter back to hold you down for me."

"You _bastards."_

"So one knows another."

"Let me _go."_

_"No."_

That mad glint flared up in Remus's eyes again, and Sirius began to be truly afraid of him. There was a power at work behind those eyes that he had never seen there before, and that scared him like nothing had scared him before. This was not the friend he had known for years. This was a strange, wild creature, and there was no knowing what he was capable of. And in his sudden panic, Sirius resorted to desperate measures. Unable to free himself by force, he spat his friend in the face.

Remus's head jerked back, Sirius seized his chance - and came to regret it instantly. He had hardly got further than to free one of his hands again when Remus, with the full force of his fury, rammed his knee between Sirius's legs, once, and again, and a third time.

For a moment, there was nothing but an explosion of pain, and a hardly human, desperate howl of agony, then blackness, but a blackness that unmercifully lifted again much too soon. Sirius was gasping for breath, clawing at the ground with his free hand, but the world around him was coming back into focus, and so was the face still hovering above him, impassive now, almost stony.

"You - " Sirius panted. "You filthy - fucking - " A hand came down on his shoulder, and he tried to jerk it off. "Don't - touch - me," he gasped. But the hand remained where it was, a gentle, caressing touch that mocked his pain and still made Sirius's skin prickle, and he hated himself for it.

"You're afraid now, aren't you?" said a voice as cold as the face it belonged to.

"No," Sirius made to say, but the cold voice went on, not heeding him.

"And you're right. You should be scared."

The hand on his shoulder began to move then, downwards, brushing along his upper arm and his heaving side, down to his hip, carelessly, almost incidentally. Sirius froze. This wasn't _happening._

In a last desperate attempt to put a stop to it, Sirius jerked his arm upwards, lashing out at whoever was _doing_ this to him, and his elbow connected with his friend's head. There was an angry hiss, and a moment later, light and gentle belonged to the past.

Remus caught Sirius's wrist and twisted his arm behind his back with a force that sent a fierce stab of pain through Sirius's shoulder and drove the fingers of his other hand deep into the grassy soil, desperately grasping at something to hold on to. There was an audible _crack_ somewhere inside his shoulder joint, and he gave a muffled cry. In the instinct to get away from the pain, his whole body had twisted around as well, and he ended up face down in the grass, Remus's weight heavy on his back, locked in a relentless grip.

"We're going right to the end," whispered Remus into the back of Sirius's neck, his breath warm, his voice almost feverish. "You're going to understandwhat it's like, to have a wolf inside you, and not be able to do anything about it. You didn't _want_ to understand it last time. Now I'm going to _show_ you."

Before Sirius knew what was happening, the hand on his hip had gone to his back pocket, drawn out his wand and flung it away into the grass behind them. Then it was back, tightening its hold, and resuming its progress towards -

_This isn't real._

"It's going to hurt," Remus stated, as if he was talking to himself. "It always does. It hurts so much it tears you apart. The pain is always there. It becomes a part of you, part of your body, part of your existence. It's in your very skin, in the marrow of your bones, it flows through your veins with your blood. There's no escaping it, ever."

Another twist to Sirius's arm that pressed it down against his back at an impossible angle. Another groan Sirius couldn't hold back. Even breathing hurt now.

"The pain numbs everything. It numbs your brain, it numbs your instincts, it numbs your sense of self. At first, you still know you've got to fight it. But you can't. You can't stop it."

Sirius felt the muscles in his thighs tense under his friend's hand.

_Don't do that. Please. Don't - _

"There's nothing you can do. Nothing. You might as well give in."

_No._

There was no sound now except both their breathing, rising and falling together as they lay. Sirius could feel his friend's heart beating against his back, not a wild hammering, but a slow and steady beat, soothing somehow, almost mesmerising.

_Remus - _

It was the crude pain of the touch that snapped Sirius back to reality. A sharp hiss escaped his lips, and he gave a wince that brought him up painfully against the body above him, but it blocked any attempt to escape the touch. He could feel Remus at his back laugh soundlessly. He _laughed._

"You goddamn _bastard," _Sirius croaked.

"Yes," Remus hissed in Sirius's ear, but there was no laughter in his voice, only bitterness. "Yes, that's what I am. You understand it _now_, don't you? That's what it's like, to be someone's _toy_. That's what it feels like to be _used_ for someone else's _entertainment. _To be something others _play_ with."

"I _hate_ you."

"Oh, but who cares for a toy's feelings?" Remus said coldly. "They don't actually have any, do they? Toys don't feel. Love, hate, it doesn't matter. They serve a purpose, that's all."

_Take your hand away. Just take your hand away._

"And when you're finished, you just throw the toy away," Remus went on. "Just leave it lying in a corner somewhere. What claim does it have on you? What do you owe it? Explanations? Apologies, maybe?" He gave Sirius a shove in the back, but it was an erratic, almost helpless gesture this time, not a deliberate cruelty. "Who cares about its tears, about its pains, as long as you others have your fun?" His voice was trembling now, thick with tears. "Why - " Remus choked, and the next moment, his head came down heavily on Sirius's aching shoulder. There was a hard sob, and another, and then silence.

_Oh, Remus._

Sirius shifted to turn around to him, but he was still trapped under the other's weight, and Remus still had his arm around him, around his waist now, clinging to him almost possessively. Sirius knew that he had no right to put an end to it before Remus had said everything he wanted to say.

"Remus - " he began, but at the same moment, his friend spoke up again, too.

"You might be trapped, caught in a nightmare," he said into Sirius's back. "But you never stop being yourself. Whatever it is that the others do to you, or that you do to yourself, no matter how little control you have over it, it's still happening to _you._"

There was another silence. Then finally, Remus raised his head. "We're one, the wolf and I," he said, his voice steady again. "_I _am one. Don't forget that again. Ever."

"I won't. I swear I won't."

Sirius would have given anything to be able to look Remus in the eyes then, to see if that smouldering fire was still there, still hungry, or if his answer had been enough to dampen it down. There was no knowing. He was still not released, and breathing was becoming harder and harder. A thousand little suns began to dance before his closed eyes. His arm was numb.

"Remus - " he managed to say again after a while.

"Yes?"

"If you're still going to rape me, can you do it now? Because I'm not sure how much longer I can hold out before your weight on my shoulder makes me pass out."

There was a short silence. "You wouldn't _prefer_ it the other way round?" came Remus's voice then, dripping with sarcasm.

"I don't think I've deserved that much consideration," Sirius replied truthfully.

Another silence. "Be careful what you say," said Remus then, sounding almost amused. "I might take you at your word."

"Go ahead," said Sirius tonelessly.

"Idiot," said the voice above him, and almost affectionately, Remus grabbed a handful of hair at the back of Sirius's head and shoved his face down hard into the grass. Then he let go of him and got to his feet.

Sirius lay there for a long time, taking deep calming breaths, listening to his heart slowing down to a normal rhythm. Only once he tried to move his arm, but very quickly left it to lie uselessly where it had slumped down on the ground. He kept his eyes closed, not that it made a difference, and only when they began to itch as his tears dried did he realise that he must have been crying all along.

"You wake up, and you wish it was just a bad dream," Remus's voice suddenly spoke up from somewhere a little away.

Sirius opened his eyes, turned over and found his friend sitting at the edge of the lake with his back to him now, his arms around his drawn up knees. He had lit one of his Muggle cigarettes, and he was smoking it slowly, looking out over the water, staring into some far distance. He had not finished yet after all.

"You wake up again," Remus continued, talking to the still waters, as if he was resuming a conversation that he'd had with them before. "You wake up, all scratched and bruised and bleeding, and you don't really know what happened, except that it hurt. You feel like you've been chewed and swallowed and thrown up again and spit out. You feel like you've had your insides turned out, like someone's ripped you open and torn out your heart and soul. Your first instinct is to blame someone else for it, but then you realise that the only one to blame is yourself - because you let it happen. You were afraid of what was coming, and still you didn't fight it enough. You gave in to it. Maybe, in some twisted way, you even wanted it to happen - you were curious to know what it would feel like, whether this was really _you_. That's the worst part of it - the idea that there's a part of you that wants this, needs this, likes it even. That's the hardest part, to admit that." He exhaled a wisp of smoke and watched it curl and dissolve above the dark surface of the water. "Isn't it?" he asked abruptly, and turned to look at his friend in the grass behind him.

Their eyes met, and Sirius thought he had never seen Remus's so cold, so empty, so void of any light, of any feeling. The fire in them had gone out, and it looked like it might never be relit.

"Yes," Sirius said hoarsely. "That's the hardest part." Almost automatically, he held out his hand for the cigarette. Remus did him the favour, and Sirius took it into trembling fingers and inhaled deeply a couple of times. It helped a little. He gave it back to Remus after a few drags though, careful not to touch his hand, and lay back on the grass, looking up at the darkening sky. The stars had begun to come out, and the evening dew was setting in. He felt it, damp and cool, through his shirt, mingling with his sweat.

Sirius suddenly shivered. "I'm cold," he said.

Remus finished his cigarette before he replied. "Let's go back then," he said finally.

Sirius sat up on his knees, waited for a moment for the world to stop spinning around him, then pushed himself up from the ground with his good arm. He got to his feet, swaying slightly, but his legs supported him, at least for the moment. He straightened his torn shirt with his good hand as best he could, thankful somehow that it was long enough to reach down to mid-thigh when he left it hanging out, and wiped his damp hair out of his eyes. Remus held out his wand to him, and he took it back almost reluctantly, not meeting his friend's eyes.

They set out back to the castle then, Sirius stumbling a few times in the dark on the grassy slope, but at least he didn't have to brush aside a helping hand. Remus knew better than to offer him one.

After what seemed like an eternity, they reached the gravel path that led up to the front doors of the castle. Sirius could only just make out two figures that sat on the stone steps there. When he and Remus approached, they got up to join them.

James looked Sirius up and down coolly, a corner of his mouth twitching as if to express only partial satisfaction. "You all right?" he asked Remus then, and Remus gave a little nod.

It was almost completely dark now, and the four of them ascended the stone steps and entered the hall unseen and in silence. Sirius's feet were finding their own way back to the Gryffindor common room now, moving automatically up familiar stairs and along familiar corridors. None of them spoke at all until Remus gave the Fat Lady the password to Gryffindor tower. She frowned and shook her head at their faces, one of them smeared with blood and lividly bruised, and a look of grim solemnity on all four of them, but she refrained from comment. And so, thankfully, did the whole of the packed Gryffindor common room when they came in, confining themselves to staring in horrid but silent fascination.

Sirius looked neither left nor right, nor behind to see what his friends would be doing, but made his way straight from the portrait hole to the dormitory stairs. He wanted nothing more than to be alone, to get into bed, and sink into a sea of dreamless sleep. It didn't matter how many curious pairs of eyes he had to pass on the way there, as long as he got there, and quickly, before his legs gave way at last. He ascended the stairs, entered the sixth years' dormitory, and sank down on his four-poster bed, not bothering to even close the curtains. It caught up with him then just how much the effort of making his way from the edge of the lake up here had cost him. His head was pounding, and his heart was hammering against his ribs. Every little move of his arm and shoulder hurt infernally. From his hips downwards, he felt completely numb. He only just managed to kick his shoes off and get out of his jeans before he fell back on the mattress. He hardly noticed that as he'd left them on the sofa downstairs, there was neither a pillow nor a blanket.

Sirius sighed, and shifted to find a comparatively comfortable position. He would have given anything for a sweet wave of sleep to just wash over him, carrying him away to oblivion, but hardly surprisingly, it wouldn't come. He tossed and turned for a while, as if his soul wasn't at home in his battered body, and finally came to rest on his side, on his good shoulder, facing the wall.

He didn't see anyone approach his bed that way, but a little draught of cold air that made the skin on the back of his neck prickle told him that someone had entered the dormitory. He heard light footsteps cross the room, and then someone sat down on the edge of his bed. The mattress sagged a little under the added weight.

Sirius didn't turn around - there wouldn't have been enough room to if he didn't want to collide with the body next to him, and besides, he knew who the other was even before he felt him lean close, and blood encrusted lips grazed against his ear.

"Sirius?"

It was barely audible - just the sound of lips forming the name, not even a whisper.

Sirius made no move and gave no answer, but Remus would know by the sudden halt in his breathing that he was awake and listening.

"You said I don't own you, and it's true, but you do know that you're mine, don't you, just as I'm yours. If you want."

It was stated with such honesty and calm certainty that it didn't require an answer.

"Only," Remus continued after a moment, still in a whisper, "I didn't want it to happen this way. God knows I wanted this, wanted it for ages, but not like that."

There was a silence.

"Don't blame the wolf," the voice at Sirius's back went on then, sounding very sober, almost stiff now. "Blame me. I'm not going to hide behind the wolf, it was me who did that."

"But you and the wolf are one," Sirius said quietly into the dark.

There was no reply. Sirius finally turned over as far as the limited space allowed, searching for Remus's face in the dark, and gave the faintest of groans when his bruised shoulder collided with Remus's knee. They both winced, Sirius at the contact and Remus at the sound.

Remus was sitting propped up against the head of the bed. He had washed his face, but he was still in his day clothes, and Sirius realised that the others probably hadn't even come up from the common room yet, and there was no need to fear they'd be overheard.

"Of course I'm blaming you," Sirius said and attempted a grin. "You almost dislocated my shoulder, you bastard."

His friend put his head back against the dark polished wood and swallowed hard. Then he found his voice again, which came out hoarse and croaking and probably a little louder than he had intended. "As long as I didn't dislocate your soul."

For a moment, neither of them breathed.

"No", Sirius said then, and put his good hand on Remus's knee, which was the part of him that was closest to reach, giving it a reassuring little squeeze. "That you didn't."

There was another silence.

"Good," said Remus then, and made a move as if to get up.

"Wait," said Sirius quickly. "I can't sleep," he added stupidly, as if Remus would be able to do anything about that.

He was. Remus very, very carefully placed his hand under Sirius's aching shoulder, turning him back over to lie on his good side, facing the wall. Then he reached down to the floor where he had left the blanket, pillowing Sirius's head on his right arm, and put the other over his friend's back, smoothing the blanket down over him.

This was how Peter and James found the two friends when they came up to the dormitory about an hour later, tiptoeing into the dark room, and standing stock-still at the peaceful sight of a wide awake and smiling Remus on Sirius's bed, cradling a fast asleep Sirius in his arms.

"James," Peter muttered, "do youget the feeling that things will never be quite the same again as before?"

"Yes," James replied with a grin. "Yes, Peter, I'm afraid you're quite right."

--- ---

On Monday night, Peter was the last to return from the library with his Charms homework finally finished, and found his three friends on their respective beds in the dormitory. Sirius was propped up on his good arm, flicking through the latest issue of Which Broomstick, Remus was sitting cross-legged by the window, cleaning and rewinding his pocket watch, and James had flopped down on his stomach, rambling on about Gryffindor's chances in the upcoming Quidditch match against Ravenclaw.

Peter bustled into the room, arms full of books and parchments. He tipped them onto his bed and sat down. "Did you see the hourglass?" he said exasperatedly, kicking off his shoes. "I couldn't believe my eyes. Gryffindor's lost thirty-five points over the weekend! And we were tied with Ravenclaw, they're in the lead now. How did that happen?"

"Oh," said James. "Easy, that." He rolled onto his back, frowning at the ceiling of his four-poster bed, and began ticking off on his fingers. "Let's see. To start with, Remus Lupin, five points from Gryffindor for beating the shit out of one of your best friends."

"Excuse me?" Remus looked up from his watch. "I didn't – "

"That's only worth five?" Sirius's voice came from his own corner of the room. "Felt like more."

"Looked like more, too," Peter grinned. "Make it ten, James, he still can't even walk properly."

"That," Sirius replied evenly, turning a page of his magazine, "is a dirty lie."

"Pettigrew, five points from Gryffindor for being a dirty liar," James continued. "Black, five points for _letting _Lupin do whatever he wants to call it."

Sirius snorted indignantly. "I didn't _let_ him."

"Accounts on that point vary," James said neutrally. "Be glad we're not assuming that you actually _enjoyed_ it. Either way, we're taking five points for that."

"Yes, and for falling asleep in Remus's arms afterwards," Peter added. "_That_ was the most disturbing part of it all, if you ask me."

"That's another five points from each of you for generally behaving disturbingly ever since," James announced. "People must think you're in love or something. What are we at now?"

"Thirty," Peter replied.

"Lupin, another five for shamelessly neglecting your duties as a prefect."

"What's that got to do with it?" Remus protested.

James rolled over and propped himself up on his elbows, giving his friend a rather scandalised look over the rim of his glasses. "Excuse _me?_ You're supposed to protect the innocent and young, Remus. Defend widows and orphans, you know. Not lay your classmates. Lay them out, I mean. You're seriously damaging your reputation as a model student. The example you're setting to the first years… shocking. _Shocking."_

"What do the _first years_ know of that?" Remus asked, a slight note of genuine panic in his voice that made James and Peter grin broadly. "There weren't any _watching, _were there?"

"Of course there weren't," Peter replied. "But lots of people asked Sirius a good many questions what had happened to his face and shoulder, at breakfast this morning. Didn't they?"

"Yeah, they did," Sirius confirmed.

Remus turned to look at his friend, but Sirius had his back to him. "What did you tell them?" he demanded rather sharply.

"That I got into a fight with the Slytherins."

"And what did you tell the _Slytherins__?"_

"That I had sex with a werewolf."

Silence.

"He still hasn't got it, has he?" James asked Remus at last.

"Doesn't sound like it," Remus replied.

"Care to come for another little walk to the lake, Sirius?" James asked pleasantly.

"I was kidding," Sirius said very quickly, sitting up on his knees and looking around at his friends almost pleadingly. "Really, just kidding."

"Yeah, we know," Remus said stiffly, and turned away to look out of the window into the night sky.

"But I'd have loved to see Snape's face at that," Peter muttered under his breath.

"Don't push it, Peter," James said equally quietly.

There was an awkward silence.

"Ah well," Peter said then, and began to get out of his robes and ready for bed. "Maybe we'd better just go to sleep."

There was no reaction from either bed on the right hand side of the room. James shrugged, got up and followed Peter's example, moving quietly around in the dark, trying to find his pyjamas.

"James," Sirius said finally, forcing a light tone, "just make sure you beat Ravenclaw by at least thirty-five points on Saturday, will you?"

"You can't score _five_ points at Quidditch," James replied, rummaging in a drawer. "That's another ten from Gryffindor, Black, for not getting even the most basic Quidditch rules right."

"Fifteen from Potter for being the worst hair-splitting smart-ass this house has ever seen."

"Twenty from Black for generally being the biggest prat that ever disgraced Gryffindor."

"Thirty from both of you for usurping the prefect's power to dock points from a house," came Remus's dry voice from his bed.

"Forty from _all_ of you for not letting me sleep!" Peter complained.

"Fifty from Pettigrew for being a pathetic little whiner," Sirius shot back.

"Sixty from Black for insulting his friends," Remus announced.

"Seventy from Lupin for provoking a massive pillow fight after curfew."

"What pillow - "

_WHAM._

The dark room dissolved into gales of laughter and a flurry of feathers, and for a while, it was good to pretend that things between the four of them were indeed just the same again as before. They would never be, but there was time enough to get used to that later.


End file.
